


Untitled

by blueswan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-23 06:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueswan/pseuds/blueswan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean talk about Jo. </p>
<p>Originally written July 15, 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled

He'd heard it on the radio, or maybe he heard it on a jukebox somewhere. Maybe Jo had played it a dozen times or more one night, until every hunter in the place had ponied up enough money that she was willing to unplug the box. Dean wasn't saying one way or the other. He hummed it under his breath until Sam jammed a tape into the deck and cranked the volume. 

Dean stopped humming, stopped smiling, wrenched the knob for the volume around. The pulse in his throat was jumping visibly. He took a deep breath, let it out noisily.

"Dean, she'll be okay. She's smart, she knows what she's doing."

"You think putting together a kick-ass file and being able to handle a shotgun is going to keep her alive." Said bluntly in a way that left no doubt, Dean thought Sam was incredibly stupid for someone with his brains. "Sam. She didn't have dad dragging her ass on hunts when she was just a kid. She's got no practical experience."

"She can handle herself." Why Sam sounded almost defensive wasn't anything Dean was going to think about. Dean just knew he couldn't do this conversation again.

The Impala swung over to the shoulder, shuddered and slipped on the loose gravel bed. "She shouldn't have to handle herself, Sam. She should be out there with someone who has her back."

"And that would be you, if you weren't responsible for keeping me from going all evil. Just call her Dean. Ask her to come with us. Not like we couldn't use her." Hand extended, reaching to pat at Dean's arm. Dean swats at Sam's hand and pulls his cell phone out, punches in the numbers again. He'd memorized them when Ellen spat them out at the Roadhouse days ago.

He's looking out the window and listening to the message. He's had four years practice at this already. Listening to the voice on the other end, waiting out the invitation to leave a message, and hearing the last beep before he ends the call with a finger jab. 

"Not in, voice mail's not set up. I'll try again tomorrow." Same lies he told their dad for four years. He glances over, quick slide of eyes to catch Sam's profile, jaw tensed and chin squared. Nope, he's not buying it anymore than Dad did, and not calling him on it either. So much like him, Sam is and yes, Dean will do just what he promised. 

One way or another, there's an end that's pulling into sight somewhere up the road, and Dean's kind of glad Jo's not going to be around for that.


End file.
